


Gold in gloved hands.

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Kings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the gloved fingers of a jewelsmith, slips a shower of  golden strands. They cover the thies, the stomache, they cover  the arms and they are dearer to the jewelsmith's soul than any precious stone...<br/>Glorfindel/OC.<br/>The story cover all the 3rd age, from it's beginning, to it's end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold in gloved hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Disclaimer: All, besides the OC’s, belongs to the Great Professor Tolkien. I have just borrowed the characters and places for a little while…

The background to the story: At the beginning this story was meant to be a sequel to the fic “The Risingsun of Lindon” but then I suddenly came to my senses after reading one of the most hilarious fanfics in my life and realized that the story contained a shameless Mary-Sue, which embarrassed me to no end. I have deleted that story to my great delight and this story became a one on it’s own, that is why a background is needed.

Arnatur was the son of Celebrimbor, the maker of the Three and the grandson of Feanor, and so was the son of the Lord of Eregion, or Hollin as men call it. When the city was laid waste and Celebrimbor slain, Arnatur fled together with the remnant of the Noldor and Elrond Half-Elven and found the refuge of Imladris, there he lived until the days of the Last Alliance.  
On the way to Mordor the hosts of Gil-galad and Elendil stopped at Imladris where more Elven soldiers gathered to fight Sauron and his evil minions, Arnatur among them.  
On one of the nights somebody asked the High King who governed Lindon while he was away at battle and Gil-galad laughed. “I am not troubled for my Kingdom, My good Elf” he said, “For a Lady wise and fair as Tuile sits on my throne and keeps trouble at bay. She is of my kin and as close to me as only a sister might be. Her grandmother was Irime, or Lalwen as she was best known, sister to King Fingolfin, who had went into exile with her Brother for he was dear to her. I fear not, Lindon is in most gentle hands”  
Arnatur, that sat near by and heard the tale, fell in love with the image of the Lady and swore that were he to stay alive and survive the battle he would go to Lindon and set eyes upon the fair maiden.  
When the war ended, Gil-galad fell into shadow and Arnatur came back wounded, but alive, he asked leave of Elrond as he healed and set out for Lindon, indeed finding there the Lady of his reveries who grieved together with her people for the loss of their King. There Arnatur spent twenty years until Yare’s heart at last turned to him and he wedded her, thus becoming the Lord of Lindon. The story begins at the birth of their Firstborn Fea, who is the heroin of the story. This fic deals with the story of her life and the Love she shares with The Golden one (a.k.a Glorfindel).

Now, dear readers, if you are not yet weary out of your wits from the background, do proceed to the story, I hope you enjoy it!

 

Notes:  
1\. Yes, I can assure you, Irime is indeed a canon character. You may look her up in: “Morgoth’s Ring” and “The Peoples of Middle Earth “  
2\. All the Elvish in this Story is Quenya, unless my OC’s speak with an Elf or someone else who does not use this language. In those cases it shall be Sindarin or the common tongue. You may find the translation to the words in Quenya at the end of the chapter.

 

 

Chapter One

Year 100 of the Third Age, Imladris.

 

“What if something goes amiss?”

The Lord of Lindon was pacing to and fro, wringing his hands in great anxiety and anticipation. He was not clad in his usual Robes that swept the floor with much grace, but in a simple red tunic and black leggings. The Lord, if to say the truth, hoped that he would be admitted to the room, which’s doors now stood shut before him, but an annoyed glance from the midwife when he sought entry proved him otherwise.

“Arnatur, be at ease. It is naught but a natural process. Indeed, a painful one, but still-“ the words of Master Elrond were cut by yet another agonized moan from within the chamber and he fell silent. This did not help the Lord of Imladris at all for his troubled friend was even more nervous and terrified now than he ever been.

With a frustrated sigh Arnatur son of Celebrimbor landed in his seat. He placed his elbows on his thighs in a way that could provide his head the support of his strong hands and heaved.

“A taura Manwe!” he cried “Si na nwalme!”

Glorfindel, who was standing by the door and wincing at each yelp of pain that irrupted from within the chamber, made his way to sit by the Lord of Lindon.

“Nildo-nin” he said and softly placed his hand on the other Elf’s shoulder “I know that it is hard, but pray, as Elrond requested, be at ease, all shall be well.”

Arnatur lifted his head and tried to smile at the Golden Elf, his eyes shone with fear and his lips were parted slightly by a worried breath. He nodded firmly and hung his head.

Glorfindel stood up and returned to the door. He leaned his head against the wooden layer and closed his eyes. Both Elf Lords followed his moves with worry. The Golden One breathed deeply and sighed.

“It is nearly time” he said peacefully.

Arnatur shifted uneasily in his seat.

“How do you know?” he asked, his tone filled with plead.

Glorfindel opened his eyes and leaned against the wall.

“Yare’s breathing becomes more ragged, more troubled and unsteady, I can hear it through the door, it means that the contractions are very frequent and strong.”

Arnatur opened his mouth to say something, but in that very instant a loud cry had ravished the silence and demanded the attention of all. His eyes widened and a broad, relieved smile decorated his lips. He jumped from his seat, as did Elrond, and faced Glorfindel, who was grinning at him serenely.

“Almare ar Alasse, Atar” he whispered and bowed his head.

“Nolwe ar vanesse, Heru” smiled Elrond and clasped his shoulder.

“Kuluva oore ar poika fea” mumbled he himself, as he blinked and inhaled deeply.

The heavy doors opened easily before his gentle hands and Arnatur, hesitatingly, walked in.

On the bed, weary but happy, lay his beautiful wife. She was holding a little bundle in her hands and smiling.  
“My dear one” she said with a tired but yet content voice “you look as if it was you who had born and birthed a child, are you well? But come now, have a look at your daughter…”

His eyes brightened and filled with tears of happiness and pride.

“A daughter…” he said and set by his wife, embracing her with one arm “melda…”

He looked at the face of the little babe that lay peacefully in Yare’s arms. Her eyes shone with silvery- gray light and color, and the hair that crowned her little head was raven.

“She has your eyes, my love, and your hair. Look! Even the mouth is yours!”

Arnatur closed his eyes and smiled happily. He brushed his lips upon Yare’s forehead, and then bent his head to capture her mouth with a long, soft and passionate kiss.

“Thank you, …” he whispered in her ear “I love you so. Both of you”

His wife laughed quietly and relaxed in his arms.

“As we love you…”

Arnatur reached out and caressed the tiny cheek with one finger.

“Do you wish to hold her?”

He turned to Yare and smiled.

“Aye…”

And so his daughter had been placed in his arms. She was his firstborn, his beauty, his precious jewel.

“Kurwen…” he whispered.

“Crafty maiden…indeed she will be” said Yare and sighed, “you have chosen a beautiful name”.

“Have you chosen one…?” he asked and turned to look at her. He noticed that his wife was smiling smugly.

“Aye, I have”.

“Well…?” he asked and arched his eyebrows

Yare laughed and indicated towards the door.

“What about our dear friends? I am sure they wish to see our child…”

Arnatur rose to his feet and returned Kurwen to her mother. He walked to the doors and opened them, inviting sunlight and Elf Lords to enter.

“Lady Yare, your beauty shines bright, even after such efforts” smiled Elrond and walked in.

“Thank you My Lord” she laughed and sighed “efforts indeed…”

When the three Elf Lords were sited around her and the newborn babe was introduced to all, Yare decided to let them know of the Mother Name she had picked for her daughter.

“I have named her Fea. For her spirit is bright and strong” she said and smiled at the sleeping infant “and by her spirit and skill she will be known best”.

After a moment of silence she looked at them once more “Master Elrond, husband, may I converse with the Lord Glorfindel in private?”

Elrond and Arnatur exchanged surprised glances and nodded. With slight bows and a soft kiss from Arnatur upon his wife’s forehead, they left the chamber, Glorfindel, who was even more confused than the other two Elves, remained silent in his seat.

“What think you of my daughter, Golden One?”

Glorfindel did not answer for a while as thoughts and foretelling filled his mind.

“She will be beautiful, Lady, very beautiful. And she shall be wise and strong. Her hands shall be the hands of a true Noldo, blessed with craft and skill. This child, this fair Lady, shall be the end of me, though in what way, I cannot say…”

The Lady of Lindon smiled, relaxed into the pillows and held her newborn daughter tightly to her chest, saying nothing…

***

 

Year 130 of the Third Age, Lindon.

She climbed upon the great wooden carved chair that was so carefully leaned against the banister of the balcony and stood on her tiptoes, eagerly examining the beautiful gardens that had gracefully laid themselves before her like a devoted pat.

As always, the beauty of those gardens that decorated the palace, those green lawns that caught the eyes and teased the peace of the heart with their fairness, mesmerized her. She was ready to spend the whole afternoon observing them from above, standing on that stool that she borrowed from the entrance hall, and sighing in happiness. The truth was that she was never happy behind the golden bars of her cage that was so conveniently named the Royal Chamber of the young Lady, daughter of the high Elven Lord of Lindon. She was always seeking an opportunity to run out and chase after the butterflies or climb one of those big trees that taunted her with their height, and whenever she got such moments of gold she would use and spend them ‘till the last drop, enjoying and savoring the sweet feeling of freedom.

Below her, talking loud enough to wake a drunken Troll from his motionless sleep, walked the head counselors of Her Father, Arcalimo and Failon, that were deeply engaged in a conversation about the development of Quenya through the time of the trees and on to the first age.  
Fea rolled her eyes. Not only did they disturb her peace with their loud, excited cries about phonetics and accent but they also disturbed her with a boring discussion about languages that made her eyelids drop!

“My Lords!” she cried from above, making the two dark haired Elves jump with a start and look up “Fair day is it not?”

Arcalimo, that had recovered faster than his friend, smiled warmly at the little Elfling and cried back that the day was indeed fair.

“How are you faring, young Lady?” Failon, that had decided to join the company asked with his clear voice.

“I was looking at the gardens, Lord Failon, but they were not so deeply embroidered in my mid day dream, so it seems, for your wonderful discussion about Quenya penetrated into each cell of my body” she cried joyfully, causing the two Elf lords to blush.

“A…we beg your pardon, Lady Kurwen, for disturbing your reverie”

Fea frowned at the use of her Father- Name. She really disliked being called like this, and as her great, great grandsire Feanor, she wanted to be known by her Mother-Name.

“It is alright My Lords. I really do not mind-“

She was about to tell them that they really had done nothing wrong, and that their hands and conscience were clean but an urgent call from within the house made her gasp and swallow hard.

“I shall see you later Lords” she cried to the astonished Elves and jumped from the chair as the loud cries of her father filled the Palace.

“Kurwen! Daughter! Where is she?”

Fea was pulling the heavy chair after her, trying hard not to trip over her long dress, when strong hands literally swapped her of her feet and threw her in the air, catching her just in time.

“So here you are my little princess!” cried her Atar as she embraced his neck “Where did you think you were taking this chair?”  
She laughed and caressed his young face with her little hands “I was returning it to its rightful place in the entrance hall!”

Her Atar smiled and kissed her nose, causing another fit of silvery giggles to emerge from the beautiful, little mouth of his lovely firstborn. He hugged her tightly and placed her down.

“I have a gift for you, Atto!” she cried and pulled at his robes that always made her laugh for they were as long as Nana’s garments. “Come to my chamber and I shall show you!”

Arnatur laughed as she led him to her rooms. ”All right, my lovely one, but do not pull so hard, or I shall trip”. To that she chuckled and threw her head back in amusement.

“But you cannot fall Atto! You are a graceful Elven Lord!”

As they entered the beautiful chamber she left his side and ran to her little escritoire, leaving him at the doorstep. Only a couple of minutes had passed before she returned, beaming with joy, holding a bundle in her hands. Arnatur knelt before his daughter and collected her in his hands.

“What is it that you bring me yende?” he asked as he caressed her back with gentle fingers. Fea unwrapped the little gift that she held in her arms, revealing a necklace made from a single silver wire and wee crimson jams that were embracing the strong string forcefully. The Lord of Lindon gasped and held the creation against the sunlight, admiring the game it played with the transparent gems.

“I made it all by myself Atto! Well…it is true that the Lord Erestor was the one to find the materials for this, but if you do not count that, then the work is all mine!” she cried gleefully, looking smugly at the admiring glances of her Atar.

“And what do we have here? What are my two most beloved Elves are doing without my company? It is not a conspiracy I hope!” the amused voice of the Lady of Lindon was heard as she came from behind them, touching the Lord’s Shoulder with soft hands.

“My Love” said Arnatur as he rose to his feet and placed his arm around the waist of his Lady “look what our yende had made” and to Fea’s greatest satisfaction he had showed the gift to her Nana, who wore the same expression on her face as her Atar wore not so long ago.

“Have you made it all by yourself?” asked Yare as she knelt before the smug figure of the young lady of Lindon. Fea, who had decided to drop the subject of the materials aside, smiled with pleasure and nodded, accepting a tight embrace from her Amme. “Aye! All by myself!”

“One day” Yare had whispered in her hair “you will be a great craftswoman and a blacksmith my love, and all shall know you and your skill”. Then she rose to her feet and held out her hand for her daughter to grab it. She decided that this night Fea should sleep with them.

“Come my lovely, you should rest, tomorrow we begin our long journey to the fair valley of Imladris”.

Fea frowned but accepted the hand that was offered to her.

“I wish we could go visit Gondolin instead…”

To that both Arnatur and Yare laughed and shook their heads.

“Kurwen, little one, Gondolin is gone…” said her Atar with a hint of grief in his voice “And Alas for the evil wars and oaths, we cannot look upon her beautiful walls, and gardens and people…”

Fea bowed her head in defeat and sighed, before raising her eyes to her Amme with renewed hope.

“Will you tell me of The Golden haired one Nana? Will you tell me of Lord Glorfindel and the Balrog? Because of all the stories I like this one best! Will you nana? Please…”

Yare smiled and shared a knowing glance with her husband.

“Aye yende” she said as they reached their Chamber “I shall…”

 

 

 

 

Quenya translation:

A taura Manwe, si na nwalme: Oh mighty Manwe, this is torture

Nildo-nin: since it is Quenya and not Sindarin it means more “a friend for me” or “a friend to me” than “my friend”.

Almare ar Alasse, Atar: Bliss and Joy, Father

Nolwe ar vanesse, Heru: Wisdom and beauty, Lord

Kuluva oore ar poika fea: Golden heart and pure spirit

Melda: beloved

Yende: daughter

Atto: some affectionate form of father, like daddy.

Amme: mother

Nana: some affectionate form of mother, like mommy.

Tuile: spring

Well…this is it! It’s the first chapter! I really hope you liked it. It will be, most probably, rated R in future chapters.


End file.
